


Love Will Not Break Your Heart

by Lokesenna



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies), Wallander (UK TV), Wallander - All Media Types
Genre: Confessions, Established Relationship, Fluff, Injury, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokesenna/pseuds/Lokesenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus gets injured on the job, just how does Loki plan to take care of him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Will Not Break Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are based on my own interpretations, hinting to things that happened in RP situations. I hope it makes sense as a standalone, but my beta reassured me that it does.
> 
> I had Mumford & Sons' "After The Storm" on repeat for most of this, so hence the theme.
> 
> I dedicate it to my darling who wrote the Loki to my Magnus in a verse called Unprecedented Chaos.

    Rain begins to drip down the sill of the open window the god stares out of. More of a mist than actual rain, like so often in this part of the realm. Ystad. Loki could hear the water land on the glass if he concentrates hard enough, the sound is so soft, barely distinguishable from the muted noise of cars in the distance. The trickster has been staring out of the window for a while, clouds swirling soothingly above. Midgardian news had predicted heavy thunderstorms from the west, from the oceans, dropping the temperatures down towards zero. He hates thunderstorms, he  _loathes_  them, completely and absolutely… they don’t remind him of home.

    Whatsoever.

    No.

    He isn’t at all waiting for said thunder to come. Hm… but from the way the clouds are just sitting there, growing darker and more threatening, it looks more like snow than actual thunder.

    Snow he hates even more.

    The raven is edgy despite his need to sit back and wait, the lack of sounds of children playing outside on a Saturday, it gives everything a more surreal feel. What is he even waiting for? He doesn’t know.

     “Loki… doing that could get you hurt, you know,” Magnus states, giving the god a semi-serious look as he leans back, putting the stack of files on the coffee table, his laptop along with them.

    “What?”

    Magnus quirks a blond brow and rolls his eyes. “Zoning, Loki…  _zoning_.”

    For a moment the raven considers denying the accusation, but then he looks over at Magnus' clock and checks,  then double checks the time.

     _Oh._

    He shrugs coolly. “I am merely enjoying the peace and quiet.”

    The Detective, ever true to his name, huffs in disbelief. “Uh-huh. Look at your hand,” he pauses long enough for Loki to glance down and notice the tremor where his hand rests on his thigh. Out of all the beings on this planet, why exactly had he decided to live with one who can actually  _read_  into things. One who observes and deduces, more often than not, hitting the nail right on the head. “Tell me what's wrong, Loki. I've seen you on edge before… but never like this. Please?”

    Loki fights the urge to blow the mortal off with a lie and instead speaks the truth… because it  _is_  the truth if a person cannot pinpoint the problem. “Truly, there is nothing wrong, I am simply observing the weather.” Waving absently at the window, he stands and grabs the empty mugs from the table, as if to prove his statement to be truthful, and he goes to refill them both in the kitchen. “Do you need anything else while I am here?”

    Domestic.

    He is being domestic.

    He should stop now.

    Magnus smirks from where he is sitting and shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. Thanks, Loki.”

    Loki fills up the mugs with fresh coffee and sets the empty container in the sink to be washed later on. He cannot figure out why something so normal feels like it is another layer onto the odd feeling building up inside of him.

    Returning to the mortal’s living room, he tries to think about dinner. What is easiest for Magnus to deal with on a tray as he is working on covering up whatever tracks Loki had left behind on his previous path to destruction. He would have continued if Magnus hadn’t somehow convinced him he was more likely to get what he wants if he does so quietly. That mortal… what makes him so special? What makes him such an exception… why had Loki not killed him?

    “You still miss it, don’t you?” Magnus leans against the pillows beside him, ever observant when he is not bent over his computer or knee-deep in e-mails and reports. With most Loki would think… no,  _expect_  there to be an ulterior motive behind the question, but not with Magnus. Not really. Yet, there are some things he would still rather not speak of, some cards he would ever hold close to his heart.

    The god sets the mugs down just that bit too hard, some coffee sloshing out onto the table. Loki’s eyes darken and with a flick of his wrist the spilled liquid is gone. “No…” He clenches his teeth, emerald hues flicking up at Magnus’ light blues. “I mean, certainly, I miss it… but like I have already told you, there is nothing wrong with me, nothing on my mind that should concern you. I was merely enjoying the day… that is all.”

    "Okay,” the blond says slowly and sits back, though his brows are still twisted and Loki knows he is not at all satisfied with the answer. As if Loki cares. He doesn’t. “I get it, yes… there’s nothing wrong. Can you at least tell me if taking care of me – you know… a measly, frail, broken mortal – if it's becoming an inconvenience to you… I'll relieve your conscience and-”

    “Out of the question, Magnus!” Loki sounds too harsh to even his own ears, eyes blazing fiercely. “You can barely get out of bed without my help, do not be ridiculous. If it were not for me you would not be in this situation.” He was good at many magicks, but healing had never been his strong point, so when the manhunt (yes, Ystad police thought him a rampant murdering psychopath but nothing more than just another mortal gone insane) had gotten to the point where Magnus had to work triple shifts (without complaint, naturally), Loki had thought it best to come up with a solution. Hunting down an actual psychopath had been easy, he had found a good selection of such in the Un-Knighted States, or whatever it calls itself, had picked the most demented one and dropped him right in the middle of a fresh, Loki-made, crime scene. Magnus had accompanied Kurt Wallander and half of the Police Force there, but apparently some psychopaths are more… psycho… than others. Things went south – not in a good way – shots were fired, and Magnus’ ended up with a splintered bone and an unwanted, yet much-needed, holiday. Loki takes a deep breath, and tries again. “You are  _not_  an inconvenience, Magnus, you are… a friend.” Huh? Okay. Yes… the mortal  _is_  a friend. More of one than Loki had ever had, in any case. “Now… do you need anything else?”

    The blond hums and gives in, nodding gently. “I’ll leave it alone.” He waits a few beats before he reluctantly adds, “Well… there  _is_  something you can do for me… it’s been a couple of days, since… you know… since I’ve had a bath…”

    Nh… Loki’s mouth twists into a smirk, as it does so often when something suggestive arises. As much as they can be suggestive, however, their companionship was simply mutually beneficial and anything potentially sexual had ever stopped with a verbal tease or two. “I shall ready everything… I cannot bathe you yet, seeing as your healers are as incompetent as the rest of your race.”

    Magnus laughs from where he is sitting, shaking his head. “They are  _Doctors_ , Loki. We don’t have magic stones to heal ourselves with… and by the way, next time you’re going to brag about those things, I’d rather you have one at hand to  _demonstrate_.”

    The god rolls his eyes as he readies towels, liquid body soap, shampoo and a full bowl of hot water, hovering them beside him with ease as he returns to sit next to the mortal. “You do know I can just magick you clean…”

    Magnus gives him a look that says it all. All that he’d said out loud plenty of times before. “ _I’m not going to stop living like a human being, Loki." "Doing things manually is nice, you know, you should try it sometime.”_  Loki had cooked  _manually_  ever since.

    “Hn… I can’t wait to take a  _shower_  again... it’s bliss,” Magnus’ voice is distracted as he begins unbuttoning his shirt and slipping out of it. Loki merely purrs to signal he is listening, and waits for Magnus to undress fully.

*

    The water steams up from the large bowl while Loki dips the washcloth in two, three times, before wringing it out and giving it a little flip to spread it out against Magnus’ back. Running it up and down slowly, re-wetting the cloth every now and then to maintain its heat. His fingers twitch with the want to use magic, but he knows Magnus would feel it, would sense it, and so he does it the way the mortal wants.  _Only_  because he is injured… and  _only_  because it is Loki’s fault he was in this situation in the first place.

    Yes. That is the  _only_  reason.

    “Lean your head down,” the god tells Magnus quietly, losing himself in the task. Hmm… doing this manually is gratifying in some ways, emerald eyes taking in every inch of exposed skin. Magnus does as he’s asked, his head drooping forward. A soft sound escapes the Detective as the hot cloth rests against his neck, a small trickle of water running down the side of his neck.

    The living room window is still open and despite the warm air in the house, the breeze coming through the open window has a chill to it. Loki feels the subtle shiver that runs through Magnus. Mortals are not made for living in the cold, and yet… these had decided to settle down in a part of the realm that is truly not all that different from Jötunheimr in the winter. “Mmh, is my gracious host comfortable, or do you wish for me to close the window?” Right. Only a little hint of sarcasm in his voice.

    Magnus chuckles at that. “Yes… it feels good, actually,” the blond's voice is a low rumble, his shoulders and neck more relaxed than when they had started.

    “Nh, Magnus… I must admit, I will be glad when I can dump your mortal ass into the bathtub to soak for a while.”

    The Swede snorts. “You and me both, but there’s something to be said about having a faithful  _wash-boy_. I think I’ll have to re-name you.”

    “That is still wash- _god_  to you, thank you very much,” Loki responds and tugs at a curl, watching it bounce back with a private smirk stretching his lips.

    Magnus chuffs out a laugh. “You  _are_  doing it very well... I take it you’ve had some practice before now…?” Magnus’s voice trails off as Loki stops moving his hand. The god knows exactly what the blond is trying to do.

    “I do not particularly feel like talking about my past, Magnus.”

    The mortal twists around to look at the god. “Why?”

    “Must there be a reason?” The trickster’s words are clipped to let him know that the subject is closed. It shouldn’t bother him, but for some reason the timing of it is most inconvenient and he just  _doesn’t want to think about it_. Magnus takes things at face value, whole and unfettered by preconceptions. It  _is_  one of the things that Loki’s admired about him when they had met. The mortal is honest, even when he is wrong and won’t let a subject go. It’s why he is so good at his job, it’s why he had tracked Loki down in the first place… and it  _is_  going to be someone’s downfall someday.

    Magnus surprises the god, though, and simply nods and turns back around. “Right… but if you feel the need to talk…”

    “Hm.” Loki tries to keep his voice even to let him know he isn’t actually angry with him. He rinses out the rag and reaches for the larger basin of water next to it as he angles his body to lay it in his lap. “Lean back and we are going to try and get that mop of yours washed.”

    “It’s not a mop.” Magnus leans back, neck against the hard plastic edge and Loki’s thigh, lowering his head into the basin.

    “It does need trimming,” the raven tells him as he grabs the floating cup and starts trickling water over his curls while his fingers comb through them. The trickster god stares down at the man’s face; eyes closed, face relaxed, and while certainly not the most comfortable he’s ever been, his expression is peaceful, his mouth slightly open…

    Ah…

    Loki cannot stop staring at that mouth, own lips parting for a moment before he schools his features and forces his eyes away, feeling a flutter in his stomach as he does so.

    Something clicks in the god’s head and suddenly he knows what’s set his unease… what made him restless.

    This. Him.  _Magnus_.

    Them, together… but not  _truly_.

    The raven leans down, not kissing but simply resting his lips against the blond’s forehead and waits.

    Waits for Magnus’ reaction.

    Waits to see if he has the nerve to continue what he’s just started, or if the outcome is simple rejection.

    All Loki knows at that moment is the chill of the mortal’s skin warming under his hand as it drifts, grazing his chin and his neck… the smell of him mixed with the soft scent of soap. When the raven moves, his attention drifts to those blues looking up at him. He holds his breath, almost wishing his heart would stop beating because the sound of it is deafening in his ears… until he notices the soft crinkling at the corners of those eyes before Magnus smiles.

    “I was wondering when,” the blond whispers quietly, a hand coming up – slowly, as if not to frighten the god of mischief – and leaves it to rest on top of Loki’s own. This is wrong, the god thinks to himself, but before he can pull away, before he can pretend nothing happened, before he can extinguish the flutter in his heart, Magnus gives his hand a squeeze. “It’s okay…”

    “It meant nothing,” Loki leans back, but he cannot bring himself to pull back his hand.

    “You’ve been skittish for the last several days. Not… normal skittish…  _you_  skittish. I can tell. I was thinking of digging into my stash of chocolates to help calm you down,” his tone is light, teasing, and Loki groans inwardly.

    “How long?”

    “How long have I had a bag full of chocolates here? How long has it been since I noticed how twitchy you were? Or… how long have I known you had feelings for me?”

    “Begin with the candy and work your way towards the end,” Loki answers as he grabs one of the towels sitting beside him and puts it around the mortal's shoulders when he notices water beginning to roll down from his hairline.

    “Hmm, very well,” Magnus smirks, eyes bright as he peeks up at the god. “Since last Hallowe’en; about two days after you stopped going on your mysterious trips because you insisted to look after me… and… six months ago, when you decided not to rip my spine out through my mouth like you so eloquently threatened to do.” The blond pauses long enough to glance up at Loki. “Which was not long after you got here… from wherever you were before.”

    Loki doesn’t think the memory of all that had happened would ever  _not_  hurt. He had lost too much, had almost destroyed this entire realm in the process… would have probably killed Magnus without ever having met him.

    “What was before matters not.” Loki adds more water to his hair and reaches for the shampoo, pouring a dab into his hand, he starts to work it through those blond curls and lets Magnus’ final answer sink in.

_Six months._

    Six months of having feelings he was not certain of… of feeling things he couldn’t pinpoint, and here Magnus has him figured out, had him figured out all along. The Police Force really should give him more credit… the blond is  _brilliant_.

    “You know I don’t mind…” Magnus has his eyes closed tight to keep any shampoo from getting into them and Loki hums and continues on in silence as he finishes washing the man’s hair before rinsing out the soap and wrapping the towel from Magnus’ shoulders around his head. The Swede props himself up on his elbows as Loki scoots off the couch and exits to give him the privacy he needs to wash the rest himself. Why? Why does he not jump on the chance and take what he wants now?

    …why does he respect Magnus so?

    It is unbecoming.

    After the mortal is done, Loki dumps out the water and magicks the clothes back onto the blond, earning him a low huff of complaint, but a sparkle in those eyes. The god ignores him. “Tell me what you wish to eat.”

    “If you keep constantly trying to feed me I won’t be able to get into my clothes when I go back to duty,” Magnus comments and looks to the empty side of the couch after he’s sitting up comfortably. He wants to talk.

    Loki hesitates, eyes trailing over to that spot and back to Magnus again. So does he – only he doesn’t know how to start this particular conversation since he’d never thought he would have these feelings for a mortal… or another being…  _ever_.

    Sex was fine.

    But this? No.

    The god moves to sit beside him and stares at the painting on the far wall. “Worry not… I will help you work it off.”

    Magnus laughs, and it’s an  _honest_  laugh. It relieves a bit of the tightness that Loki is wearing like a shroud and… it is the first time the god thinks he’s ever heard Magnus laugh like this before. So carefree, so  _open_. “Don’t get cheeky.”

    “I ought to clean those towels and I must feed your fish. I forgot”, Loki forces the smirk threatening to tug on the corner of his mouth away.

    “Uuh, Loki...” The blond blinks at him, puzzled for a moment. “You do  _realize_  they’re not real fish, right? I’d have killed them long ago if they were, I don’t have the time… they’re just plastic. Decorations.” Mischief shows in Loki’s eyes as he turns to look at the blond and Magnus gasps. “Oh you didn’t… you  _did_? You magicked them real? I have  _real fish_?” He quiets, taking in this new information, and then softens, “Come closer.”

    Loki doesn’t hesitate this time. Inching closer to Magnus, his shoulder brushes against the mortal’s and a flash of heat stirs in him. So different from the air radiating from the heater. So,  _so_  different from anything he’d ever felt before.

    “You aren’t obvious, Loki… your pokerface remains intact. I just want to reassure you… in case you were worried,” Magnus says as he lays his hand on Loki’s forearm for a moment before taking it away.

    “Hm… that thought did occur to me…”

    “That thought that says ‘shoot-run-hide’?”

    “In Midgardian Detective-Of-The-Ystad-Police-Force terms,” Loki gives a curt nod.

    “I’m familiar with it,” Magnus admits and Loki opens his mouth to ask how, but even before he gets out a sound, the mortal asks it for him. “So how did I know that you wanted me for more than my keen intellect?”

    Loki’s lip really twists into a smirk this time and he resists smacking the blond, because who was being cheeky now?

    “A feeling?” He shrugs, “I’ve been around, Loki, even if I’m not an immortal god who’s had hundreds or… or - for all I know -  _thousands_  of sexual partners before, I’ve been in lust as much as I’ve been in love… I know the look. My point is that while you've presented yourself as nothing more than the Norse God that you want to be, I’ve seen past it.”

    Loki nods, slowly lifting a hand to trace the mortal’s cheek once more, his voice a purr. “You observed much…” His thumb brushes underneath Magnus’ eye and blond lashes flutter in reaction. The trickster god smirks.

 _Ah… there it is_.

    “You have never been with a man, let alone a god, a  _murderer_ … yet you feel for me, too.”

    “It sort of hit me out of the blue,” the Detective reaches up, own fingers curling over Loki’s and the god knows they recall that moment they met… in the warehouse. That moment Magnus had lowered his P226.

    “So you…”

    “...took a leap of faith,” Magnus finishes for Loki, and the God of Lies understands those words as the truth even before he seals them with a kiss.

*

    Sitting behind Magnus in bed later that day, Loki holds him as the mortal leans back slightly, head tilting onto the god’s shoulder and he brushes those curls back with one hand. Loki only has to dip his chin a little before his lips are caressing the side of his neck, nuzzling and laying a whisper-soft kiss on his skin.

    The quiet of the grey skies outside the window has crept inside some time ago and has waited for the right moment to blanket them. Cocooning and protecting the two from the world, from their obligations and duties and expectations. It feels good and right and fills a place marked  _fate_. Loki’s earlier fears  _(by the Norns,_   _he is a mortal!)_  are still there, but he can feel their strength falling apart with each moment he spends touching Magnus, making every inch of the Detective’s body his even as he’s doing the same to the god given the awkwardness of their positions. Loki can admit now, if only to himself, that he is terrified. There is a new level and dimension of the future that is laid wide open to explore… but being terrified of something had never stopped him before.

    There’s no rush in their exploration and it’s ironic that Loki can now quietly thank his upbringing on Asgard for giving him a sharper attention to the little, albeit important, details, as he traces an old scar along Magnus’ rib, leftover from one of the many tussles he’d indubitably had in the name of the law. Loki would make it his mission to learn the origin of each and every one of the scars Magnus wears.

    The blond’s breath hitches just a little, and Loki purrs, whispering against his ear. “Did that tickle~?”

    Magnus turns his head slightly, leveling it enough that their lips meet and he leans in, kissing the god short and sweet and  _Gods_ , Loki doesn’t want him to ever stop. “I’m not ticklish.”

    “M-hmm,” Loki’s hand runs from Magnus’ hip, across his stomach… fingers parting and closing slowly in time with his breathing, savouring. Magnus leans over to the nightstand and reaches inside, bringing out a small plastic bottle. Flipping open the cap, he tilts his head to look at the god once more, “Hold out your hand…”

    Loki does as he’s told and lifts his hand, palm up and Magnus squirts a dab of the liquit onto it. The bottle is discarded somewhere in the tangle of sheets as Magnus takes Loki’s hand and guides it down to rest on the erection that had more than caught his attention… long,  _long_  before this moment, in fact. He knows Magnus had been able to feel the god’s nestled against the crack of his ass for the past half hour.

    Curling his hand over Loki’s, their hands move up and down, the motion slow and measured at first, running from base to tip. A moan rumbles in Magnus' chest and Loki holds onto him, keeps him from shifting his bad leg too much by reaching with his other hand and bracing him by taking hold of his thigh. “Careful,” the raven warns, trying to keep him in the here and now.

    Magnus simply nods, relaxing his body and Loki can see him lick his lips. The trickster does the same, like a reflex, wishing that he could have another taste of them but compromises by nuzzling the side of his neck until he can kiss the hollow where it meets the shoulder.

    There is something to be said for taking one's time… nothing compares to this… nothing in the nine realms… nor anything beyond.

    The two rock gently, forwards and back and Loki can see the blond’s face relax, lost in the feel of the god’s hand on his cock. Up and down, from tip to base, slow and steady as they continue to rock. Loki’s own length rests hard between the cheeks of Magnus' rear, the friction and heat are enough to scatter his thoughts and he loses a bit of himself with this mortal.

    Magnus wraps an arm around Loki’s thigh, pushing back against him when the raven’s hand slides down further and cups his balls, squeezing enough to elicit a groan. His grip tightens around Loki’s hand as they round the top once more and the god pauses to run his thumb over the slit, a callous digit raking gently along the head. The raven kisses the exposed skin behind the Detective’s ear, tongue lapping the sweat beginning to bead along the hairline. He feels positively drunk on this mortal and he wants more when Magnus digs his fingers into his leg muscle and shivers.

    Loki’s nail digs in just a little rougher - it earns him a satisfying whimper - before they move once more, their pace quickening. Magnus shifts, grinding his rear into the god and it's all that the trickster can do to maintain any measure of control… but even that is taken out of his hands (eheh) when Magnus holds his breath, spine arching as his head jerks back onto the raven’s shoulder when he comes, toes curling and hips bucking, seed spilling between and over their fingers, sticky and warm. “Nnnnnghhh!”

    Loki bites his lip, the sounds Magnus makes cutting through his restraint. He holds onto the blond more tightly, one arm nestled back across his stomach until he's ready to move again.

    Loki enjoys the feel of Magnus’ body against his own, he can feel his heart beating in his chest – or is it his own? The god can’t tell as he simply lets the moment fold over him. They don’t… they can’t get moments like these in life, so they take advantage of them when they come and savour them. It gives them something to reach for, grounding them for what they deal with outside these walls.

    Between grunts of pleasure and little growls against Magnus’ curls Loki notices that the silence and heaviness of the day has been replaced by the heavier sound of rain beating against the window pane, thunder rolling in the distance.

    The storm is here.

    Perhaps Loki should close the windows, but instead he watches with half-lidded eyes as the drops gather together and grow, forming something larger.

    This. This is worth more than anything else he’d fought for, worth more than his pride, more than his might.

    This is what really matters.

    This mortal.

    Magnus.


End file.
